


The Death Of Us All

by unkissed



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Gay Marriage, Gen, M/M, Original Character(s), POV Multiple, slight crack, some f-bombs dropped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 12:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2469065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkissed/pseuds/unkissed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody is dying and nothing hurts.  This is a story of love and marriage, as told through the eyes of Scorpius, Albus, Theodore, Draco, Daphne, Astoria, James, and Teddy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Death Of Us All

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as the happy ending that might never actually happen. But it makes me feel better about torturing these characters in other stories that are filled with angst and heartbreak.
> 
> Inspired by and dedicated to:
> 
> Scorpius, who loves to dance.  
> Albus, who rocks.  
> Draco, who loves Dior.  
> Theodore, who loves Draco.  
> Daphne, who throws teacups.  
> Astoria, who loves Martinis.  
> James, who doesn't give a damn.  
> and Teddy, who changes colors.
> 
> And, of course, to ColorfulStabWound who is an awesome boss and brilliant writer.
> 
> Thank you to Daphne's boss, who inspired the Daphne here.

 

~Scorpius~

 

“It’s not going to be a big deal. You’ll see,” says Albus.

 

Scorpius pouts slightly and replies, “But what if I _want_ it to be a big deal?”

 

Albus laughs heartily and hooks Scorpius under his arm for a sideways hug and a big, wet kiss on the cheek.  “Such a drama queen.”

 

Scorpius will never get over how the sound of Albus’ laugh makes him feel – his heart is lighter and his insides are all warm, like he’s just had the best cup of cocoa on a winter day.  If all he heard for the rest of his life were Albus’ songs and his melodic laugh, he’d happily forego any other sounds, which is saying a lot considering his own passion for music.

 

“We deserve to be fussed over,” Scorpius declares as he idly plays with the buttons on Albus’ shirt, “I’d be terribly disappointed if dad didn’t at least have a mild coronary.”

 

Albus nuzzles his face into Scorpius’ hair and muses with a soft sigh, “You’re going to be the death of us all, Scor.”

 

Scorpius can’t help but giggle, a bit smug.

 

He’s so happy, _he_ could die.  But Scorpius will do his best to keep on living because now he not only has a zest for life, he’s got an obligation.  Not that it’s a painful obligation at all.  _Until death, do us part_ is what the muggles say.

 

They’re about to go through the floo when Scorpius swallows hard and hesitates.  “Maybe it’s bad timing.  Perhaps we should wait to tell them.”

 

“It’s the best time, Scor,” Albus reassures him with a hand on his shoulder and a small smile.  “She wants you all to be happy.  It’s been over a month.  She doesn’t want you to mourn forever.”

 

Albus has always managed to remain optimistic and hopeful in the darkest of times, of which Scorpius has only really had three.

 

The first, he experienced at the age of three, without the support of a best friend, but thankfully he had Uncle Theo to help him deal with his parents’ divorce.  The second, he endured alone because it was the sheer absence of Albus that drove him into the depths of despair.  And the third, he’s still trying to get through.  But he knows Albus will help him find a way to heal the open wound left in the wake of his grandmother’s death and move on with his own life – a life he won’t ever have to live alone.

 

So he gives Albus a peck on the lips, throws some powder into the floo, and states clearly, “Number nineteen Rue de Auteuil, Trocadero, 16th Arrondissement, Paris, France.”

 

When Scorpius steps through, Albus is close behind, and he inwardly hopes Albus got the pronunciation right this time. He doesn’t really fancy running around Paris searching – Scorpius has never needed to look very hard for his other half in any sense because he’s always been right there beside him.

 

 

~Draco~

 

“We should just do it,” Theodore says with an exasperated sigh as he and Draco endure yet another meeting with Daphne, party-planner extraordinaire.  “Find an officiant to perform the binding ceremony at our house, and owl the announcements after the fact.”

 

“Maybe you’ll change your mind after you see the pictures of this next venue.  It’s a gorgeous converted loft in Chelsea.  Very modern and minimalist.  It’s just your style, Theo.  Perfect for a small but elegant soiree.” Daphne is undeterred as she flips the laminated pages of her binder.

 

Draco vaguely glances at the photographs in the binder and says, “Don’t get me wrong.  I love an elegant soiree as much as the next bloke, especially when it’s in honor of me--”

 

“Us,” Theodore interrupts to correct him with a grin and a playful elbow nudge.

 

“Us,” Draco reiterates.  “But we’re forty-four and I’ve already had a huge high society spectacle of a wedding over twenty years ago.”

 

“Dear Merlin, twenty years?  Has it been that long?  It feels like just yesterday that my sister forced me into a hideously pink Cavalli abomination of a bride’s maid’s frock.”

 

Draco snorts with amusement and he couldn’t be happier that they can all laugh about it now instead of feeling it looming like a constant dark cloud over their lives.

 

“That thing had poufy cap sleeves. I’m certain she did it on purpose just to spite me,” says Daphne, scrunching up her nose with disdain.

 

“If it had been up to me, I would’ve put you in the finest Dior brocade gown, Daph,” Draco says graciously.

 

And because Theodore always has to be brutally honest, he says, “If it were up to you, there never would have been a wedding.”

 

The three of them nod quietly in agreement, lost for a moment in silent, solemn reflection.

 

Maybe it’s because Theodore feels guilty for bringing down the mood of the meeting that he chimes in with an outlandish idea. “What if we did it on a remote island in the South Pacific?”

 

Draco isn’t sure if Theodore is being facetious and sharply quirks a doubtful eyebrow at him.  “You’re going from _let’s just elope_ to _let’s have a destination wedding_? Really, Theodore.”

 

Theodore shrugs.  “Any excuse for a holiday.  I’m dying to go to the South Pacific.”

 

Draco checks his watch and sighs. “Daph, I hate to cut this visit short, but Scorpius is due to arrive for tea any minute now.”

 

He’s terribly bored of this wedding planning nonsense. But he’s been humoring Daphne because he knows this is the party she’d been waiting her whole career to plan, other than her own nuptials, which had been an ostentatious affair of historic proportions.  As much as Draco doesn’t like to be outdone, he’s inclined to let Daphne win this one. He’s been bound to Theodore since they were children.  It’ll only take a few incantations and some magic to make the bond official. And really, that’s all he needs. He’s been publicly showing off his love for Theodore in grandiose ways for the better part of a decade. A flashy wedding would be redundant.

 

“I’ll come round in a couple of days with some brochures for destination weddings,” Daphne says as she flicks her wand to send all the binders into a Louis Vuitton tote bag with an extendable charm. She gives both Draco and Theodore double air kisses.  “I hear Bora Bora is lovely.  You could do a beach-casual party.”

 

Draco and Theodore answer her in a united chorus, “Good bye, Daphne.”

 

Her voice echoes through the floo as she steps through, “Tahiti is another option!”

 

“ _She’ll_ end up in Tahiti if she’s not careful,” says Draco.

 

Theodore kisses Draco’s temple and lets his lips linger there upon the faint lines in his skin.  He mumbles softly, “Does the floo network even reach Tahiti?”

 

“Cheeky bastard,” Draco answers fondly as Theodore swallows him up in the warmest embrace.

 

 

 

~Theodore~

 

Tea is barely on the table in the drawing room when Scorpius comes through the floo in the foyer.  “Dad! Uncle Theo!  We’re here!” his melodious voice echoes through the cavernous house.

 

Theodore picks his head up with a small gasp and whispers to himself, “We?”  He quickly sets down the tray of tea things and apparates to the pantry, where he rummages around for another tin of biscuits, muttering something about how Scorpius could’ve owled ahead to let him know Albus would be coming.  Really, Theodore should’ve known.  There was hardly ever a time when Scorpius didn’t have his boyfriend in tow.

 

Back in the drawing room, the din of familiar, excited voices greets him and Theodore is more than happy to welcome the sound into the house that had been much too quiet lately, with the exception of Daphne’s less-than-welcome party planning visits.

 

“Uncle Theo!” Scorpius’ face lights up and he bounces in place with his arms up like he’s a hyperactive toddler again.

 

Theodore abandons the tin of biscuits on the table and quickly crosses the room in a few long strides.  “Give us a hug, you,” he says and opens his arms. He’s surprised to find that the boy is now taller than him by a good three inches.  He still feels like a child in his arms when they embrace, and that’s maybe more to do with how Theodore perceives him. “Merlin!  When are you going to stop growing?  What are you, nineteen and six-two?”

 

“You know your great-great grandfather was six-four,” says Draco smiling fondly at his son.

 

“That’d be brilliant to be so tall,” says Scorpius, all bright-eyed.

 

Theodore stands back to take in all of Scorpius from a short distance and rests his head on Draco’s shoulder with a wistful sigh. “The little guy isn’t so little anymore.”

 

Draco tips his head to touch Theodore’s and echoes that sigh.  “He’s not been little for quite some time.”

 

Scorpius looks bashful and color spreads quickly, high across his cheeks.  “You guys…,” he whines and inclines his head towards Albus as if to say, _stop embarrassing me in front of the boyfriend._

 

They had been so busy fawning over Scorpius that Theodore failed to welcome Albus.  Perhaps Draco had done so when Theodore was in the pantry, but judging from the way Albus looks a bit meek and out-of-place, he doubts it.

 

“Albie, good to see you,” Theodore says as he gives him a warm, hearty pat on the shoulder.

 

Albie grins softly, perhaps relieved to finally be acknowledged.  “Good to see you too, Theo.”  He offers a curt nod and an awkward smile in Draco’s direction.  “Mr. Malfoy.”

 

Draco returns the nod, but not the smile. “Albus.”

 

Theodore attempts to break the tension by ushering everyone to tea.  He covertly summons an extra cup and saucer from the breakfront for Albus.  The settings don’t all match, but it’s always been his way. Theodore gives the good china to Draco and their guest while he and Scorpius have their favorite mugs that bear the dark circles of constant use.  Scorpius’ mug says _J’adore Danse_. Theodore’s has a union jack and says, _I fancy my men like I fancy my tea: hot and British_.

 

“The new house looks great,” says Scorpius over his steaming mug.  “I like the black-and-white wallpaper with the people frolicking in a meadow.”

 

“Yeah,” Albus chimes in, “If you stare at it long enough, there’s a dog running around too.”

 

Theodore can tell Albus has been resolutely keeping his eyes on the wallpaper rather than having to meet Draco’s judgmental stare. Regardless of what Theodore has ever said to try to change his mind, Draco is still bitter that his son ran away with _The Potter Boy._ Theodore could only convince Draco to accept it, but nothing could make Draco not hate it.

 

“Yes, _Toile de Jouy_ ,” says Draco loftily, “I enchanted the pattern to move myself.”

 

“Oh, it’s brilliant,” says Albus, “It’s quite lovely and goes really well with the erm…” he glances around the room haphazardly and adds, “…rug.  You’ve very good taste, sir.”

 

“Thank you,” says Draco, politely but a bit flatly.

 

Theodore knows when Scorpius is trying to butter up his father for something, and easily recognizes Albus using the same strategy. They’d only just returned from a three-month tour of the United States with Albus’ band and Theodore wonders what other far-flung destination Albus will be whisking Scorpius off to next that Draco will no doubt object to.

 

Theodore lifts a plate of almond thins and offers them to the two boys.  Awkward silences are always best filled with cookies, he finds.  “Tell me about tour.  How did you enjoy The States?”

 

Scorpius mumbles around a mouth full of biscuits, “Oh it was fantastic! Las Vegas was my favourite. So many lights!” He glances at Albus and they both giggle.

 

“Sin City, hm?” Draco doesn’t look amused.

 

Theodore tries to steer the conversation away from Las Vegas and the sinful delights Scorpius may or may not have experienced there. “Heard you played The Wiltern in Los Angeles, Albie.  I saw Weezer there once many years ago.  It was a brilliant show. How’d you find it?”

 

“Oh gods, it was amazing.  The LA crowd was so into it,” offers Albus.

 

“I _loved_ LA,” croons Scorpius, then chatters excitedly, “All of California, really, from what little I saw.  Spent most of the time in hotels.  Did you get my postcard from Chateau Marmont?  I can’t believe we stayed there. So rockstar!”

 

Theodore glances at Draco, who is quite visibly fighting to appear unaffected.  “Spent a lot of time in hotel rooms, hm?”

 

Albus is quick to answer, “Sleeping. Lots of sleeping. Busy tour, and all. Late nights at the concert venues. Gotta rest when the opportunity presents itself to avoid burn-out.”

 

“Hm.”  Draco takes a sip of his tea and looks unconvinced.  In fact, he looks deadly.

 

Things are not going as well as Theodore would have hoped and he imagines that it will only get worse, so he makes the executive decision to change the subject drastically. 

 

“Scorpius, your father and I have some big news to share with you.  And Albus too, of course.”  Theodore rests his hand on Draco’s knee and gives it a tiny squeeze.  Draco doesn’t flinch.

 

“Oh!  What a coincidence!  Albie and I also have something important to tell you,” says Scorpius brightly.

 

It is that exact, inopportune moment that Astoria decides to floo in unannounced.  Her unmistakable voice rings shrilly from the foyer.  “Anybody home?  Scorpius, are you here?  Draco? Theodore, you’d better have trousers on, you old pervert!”

 

 

~Astoria~

 

Astoria probably shouldn’t be running around London on a wild goose chase to find her son.  His yet-unpacked suitcase is sitting in his room at her house, so she knows he’s back from tour.  His muggle mobile device goes straight to voice mail when she phones it, and Albus’ just keeps ringing until a _user’s inbox is full_ message plays.  All text messages go unanswered and the owl hasn’t come back after she’d sent it off an hour ago with a note that reads, _Mummy needs to talk to you ASAP_.  She looks for Scorpius at his boyfriend’s flat, not far from her place, and he’s not there either.

 

He must be with his father, she thinks. She has news that can’t wait and it is far too important to be conveyed in a letter.  She’d firecall ahead, but it’s just as easy to drop in at Draco’s house.  Besides, she rather wants Draco to hear the news too.  Not that he’d really care.  But she wants him to know that she’s finally reached a point in her life when she can definitively say she’s moved on, and she’d love to rub it in his smug face just because.

 

She nearly topples over in her Louboutin stilettos coming through the slippery marble floo and decides she’s going to wear flats for the next several months.  “Anybody home?”

 

She finds the whole lot in the drawing room, having tea.  Even Albus is there. It appears that she’s interrupted a very tense conversation, for all four men look up at the same time when she enters.

 

“Did I miss the invitation?” she jokes. Her heels rhythmically click across the varnished wood floor as she crosses it and speaks in a whirlwind. “Scorpius, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.  Thank Merlin, you’re here.  I was one step away from checking The Potters’ house and you know Ginevera is still sore I broke her expensive blender the last time we made frozen daiquiris.  Albus, sweetie, please tell her I’ll replace it – she need only owl me.  Scorpius, come say hello to your mother, darling.”

 

She opens her arms expectantly and he hesitates before rising from his seat.  She hates that Scorpius had been progressively hesitating more and more since he’d become a teenager.  He folds her up in his arms and she is nearly lost within the sheer size of him. Her heart aches a little bit inside thinking about how her special little boy now towers over her as a young man.

 

“Hello, mummy,” Scorpius says and instantly melts any ill feelings Astoria has about her baby growing up too fast. He has to bend down to kiss her on the cheek.  “Missed you.”

 

“Oh, sweetie darling, mummy missed you so much,” she says.

 

Draco interjects dryly, “This family reunion is touching and all, but what the Hell are you doing here, Astoria?”

 

She takes a seat on a nearby wing-backed armchair and inwardly snorts at the way Draco’s _dutiful wife_ is quick to provide her with a cup and saucer with the swish of his wand.  The irony is not lost on her that Theodore has just given her a chipped plate.

 

“I needed to talk to Scorpius right away. I’ve some exciting news that I couldn’t wait to share with him,” she says.

 

“Join the queue, mum,” Scorpius jokes, but the joke is lost on her.  She’s clearly missing something.

 

“You could’ve owled,” mutters Draco.

 

“I did.  Sort of. Tiffany is still flying around London looking for Scorpius.”  She helps herself to tea because she doesn’t trust that Theodore won’t “ _accidentally_ ”pour it in her lap.

 

“Shall we talk in another room?” asks Scorpius.

 

“No need.  You all might as well hear the good news.”  She raises her head high and smiles proudly, practically singing the words. “Corvus and I are finally expecting!”

 

“Expecting?” Scorpius spits out incredulously, as if it’s the vilest thing he’s ever heard, “You mean you’re pregnant?”

 

“With twins!” she adds excitedly.

 

Scorpius’ brow is furrowed deeply in a scowl as he speaks.  “You’re telling me you’re having Corvus Valentine’s twin devil spawn?”

 

It doesn’t go unheard when Draco mumbles under his breath, “Heaven help us all.”

 

Astoria looks wounded.  “Darling, I thought you’d be happy.  Mummy’s having two babies.  You’re getting two siblings!”

 

“I don’t want two siblings.  I’ve been the only child for nineteen years and I really don’t fancy being a big brother to two kids who are nearly twenty years younger than me.”

 

Scorpius sounds petulant and childish. Astoria thought that he would’ve grown a lot traveling the world with Albus.  But deep down inside, he’s still only nineteen – around the same age as she’d been when she married Scorpius’ father.  She remembers how naïve and foolish she’d been then. She can hardly expect her son to be any more evolved, especially when he’d spent the last two years away from home with little to no parental influence.

 

He crosses his arms and scoffs, “Anyway, you’re a bit old to be having babies, don’t you think, mother?  Is it even safe to be pregnant at your age?”

 

Age is a hot button with her and Scorpius should’ve remembered that – or perhaps he does and he’s using it on her. “Women are having babies well into their forties now, and I’m only forty-one.”

 

Albus interjects, “My gran was forty-two when she had my mum.  They both turned out alright.”

 

Everyone’s eyes fall upon the Potter boy as if to say _who asked you?_ And he shrinks back meekly into the sofa to busy himself with a sandwich that he’s just plucked off a pile on the coffee table.

 

“Mm, these are, erm, nice sandwiches,” Albus says sheepishly.

 

Scorpius rises abruptly from his seat. “Mother, a word, please.” He gestures out the door and Astoria obliges.

 

He ushers her into what looks like an office with an antique typewriter on a beat-up wooden desk.  If she had to bank on it, she’d say this was where Theodore writes his trashy novels.

 

“Before you say anything, Scorpius, can I just say one thing?”  In the absence of others, Astoria doesn’t have to put on the appearance of the doting, sweet mother. Of course, she loves her son, but she’s never had the sort of close relationship with Scorpius that other boys have with their mothers, and she has Draco to thank for that.

 

“As if I have a choice,” he mutters and looks away.

 

“Darling, this is not about you. For the first time in more than two decades, I’m living my life for me.  Can you at least be glad of that?  Can you appreciate that I’m finally happy?”

 

He spits back sarcastically, “I’m so sorry I fucked up your life, mum, and made you so miserable. Now that I’m all grown up, you can do it right this time.”

 

Astoria could crumble from her son’s scathing words. His eyes are glassy and he looks fit to cry.  She has to reach up to hold his face in her hands and reprimands him in a huff, “Scorpius Hyperion! Where do you get these poisonous ideas?” From his father, no doubt, but she’s not here to talk about Draco.

 

She heaves a long, sad sigh and softens her voice as she lets her thumbs brush against her son’s cheeks.  “Sweetheart, you are the only bright thing that came out of my dark days.  You were my only reason for living when I was essentially dying on the inside at Malfoy Manor. You didn’t ruin my life, you gave it meaning.”

 

Scorpius begins to cry quietly. It never ceases to break Astoria’s heart to watch her son cry, especially when it is her doing. “You didn’t want me, though. Everybody knows I was conceived out of duty, not out of love.  And now you’re having kids with that awful man – kids that you actually want. I know I’m hardly a child anymore, but still – where does this leave me?”

 

Astoria’s heart constricts and makes the words hard to get out of her tight throat.  She rarely cries unless the tears are strategic.  But just because she’s not weeping doesn’t mean she isn’t terribly hurt. She’s angry at herself for not making it clear to Scorpius over the years that he wasn’t just a living insurance policy to safeguard the endurance of the Malfoys.  She’s angry at both herself and Draco for not being more affectionate people with their son.  If they had been, maybe Scorpius wouldn’t be so livid and hurt right now.

 

“I admit - becoming pregnant with you was not my choice.  The path I had taken was one that had been laid for me, not one I made myself.  But once you were born, and I held you in my arms, I knew I was blessed, not cursed.”  She has to tiptoe to press a kiss to Scorpius’ forehead.  “From the day you entered the world, you were my special little boy. And even though you’re a man now, you will _always_ be mummy’s special little boy.  Regardless of how many children I have with Corvus.”

 

Scorpius sniffles and cracks a tiny smile. “You mean it?”

 

“I mean it.  Mummy loves you,” she says.

 

Scorpius takes a shaky, cleansing sigh and wipes away the remnants of his tears on his sleeve.  “No matter what?”

 

Astoria smiles softly.  “No matter what.”

 

“Well that’s good.  Because there’s something I have to tell you that you’re not going to like.”

 

 

 

 

 

~Albus~

 

It’s a terrible shame that Albus and Scorpius never did get to share their happy news with Scorpius’ family, nor did they ever find out what Mr. Malfoy and Scorpius’ Uncle Theo had to announce. Scorpius’ mother’s news preempted everything and neither party wanted to be up-staged.

 

Albus hopes he can get through a visit to his parents’ house without incident.  It’s hard enough to get a word in at home on an average day, and the big Welcome Home dinner might not be the best place to make an announcement, but he’ll try anyway.

 

It’s a full house.  Gran and Gramps are there and won’t stop pinching Albus’ cheeks. Lily is home from school for the summer and is getting a little too cozy at the dinner table with her boyfriend, Malcolm Macbeth. Albus would object to Malcolm’s arm draping possessively over his sister’s shoulders, but he’s called _Big Mac_ at Hogwarts for good reason. Jamie has a week off from pre-season training with Puddlemere United and is gracing the family with his “ _effervescent presence_ ”.  He has yet to shut up about every play he flawlessly executed at the last practice, and dad is eating that stuff up like pudding. Teddy, however is conspicuously absent and Albus is rather disappointed. But a professor’s work is never done and Teddy must already be at Hogwarts preparing for the upcoming term.

 

“Mum, before I forget, I promised Scor’s mother I’d tell you to owl her,” says Albus as he helps himself to a scoopful of ice cream from a tub that’s being passed around the table.

 

“Circe, I really should, but every time I do, I end up with a nasty hang-over the next day,” she admits.

 

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that, Mrs. Potter,” says Scorpius, “Her drinking days are over.”  He leans over and mumbles in Albus’ ear, “At least for the next nine months.”

 

“Is that so?” says mum with disbelief.

 

“Just owl her.  That’s all I can say.”  Scorpius smiles sweetly and Albus rather wants to kiss him because he’s so goddamn adorable.

 

“Should we tell them now?” Albus whispers conspiratorially to Scorpius.  Scorpius nods enthusiastically.

 

Albus is about to stand up to make a big announcement when Jamie clears his throat loudly and beats him to it. He’s holding what must have been his third glass of wine and clinks his spoon against it to call everyone’s attention at the very noisy table.  Albus and Scorpius look at each other and collectively heave an exasperated sigh.

 

“I’ve got something to say,” James declares, standing at the table, swaying a bit on his feet.

 

“Of course you do,” Albus mutters, un-amused.

 

“I’ve been keeping something from you all, and it’s not because I’m afraid or ashamed,” says James, brash and loud as ever, “No, I just think it was none of your damn business, to be honest.”

 

Mum pierces him with one of her signature warning glares. “James Sirius, what in Merlin’s name are you on about?”

 

“I’m getting there, I’m getting there, wait for it,” says James, quelling his mother’s short fuse with a gesture of his hand, “I am proud of who I am.  I’m proud to be a Potter, a Gryffindor, a Puddlemere United superstar…”

 

“An insufferable prat,” Albus mutters, not entirely inaudibly.

 

James resolutely ignores him and continues, “And I am not ashamed to say that I, James Sirius Potter, am an unapologetic bisexual.”

 

“Oh, how wonderful!  Congratulations!” says Gramps cheerily, though Albus doubts that their grandfather fully understood what James was declaring. Gramps starts to clap, but only gets two in before gran quickly squeezes his arm and smiles awkwardly.

 

“Bi- _what_?” asks dad, narrowing his eyes at him confusedly from above the rims of his glasses.  Perhaps James slurred a little from the alcohol.  Or maybe dad just didn’t want to be hearing what James was saying.

 

“Bi- _sexual_ , dad.  It means I fancy both men and women,” James clarifies.

 

Dad somehow still looks confused, as does mum. “Yeah, I got that. But are you _sure_?”

 

“Positive,” says James.

 

“I don’t believe it,” says mum flatly as she pours herself more wine.

 

“I hate to disappoint you, dear mum, and ruin any heterosexual aspirations you had for your precious son,” James retorts, and the flippant way he says it makes Albus think that James actually doesn’t give a damn what their parents think – he never has.

 

“It’s not that, Jamie.  It’s just that I was certain that you were _gay_ ,” says mum.

 

Lily heaves a bored, dismissive sigh. “Sit down, Jamie. Unless you have something to tell us that we haven’t already figured out ages ago.”  Her boyfriend nods in agreement with a little apologetic shrug.

 

James looks a little deflated and disappointed that his grand announcement hadn’t caused more of a stir. “Well, alright then. I’ve got something else to say.” He takes a sip of his wine, as if giving himself some liquid courage.  “I’ve been sleeping with Teddy Lupin for the past year.”

 

Lily lets out a snorty laugh. “Your sense of humor is seriously fucked up, Jamie.”

 

“Lily Luna!  Watch your effing language!” mum scolds, “And James, that’s not fucking funny!”

 

“I’m _dead_ serious, guys.  I’m sleeping with Teddy,” he says unapologetically and adds with a smug grin, “Bet you didn’t know _that_.”

 

Albus whispers to Scorpius, “How did we miss that? I’ve no idea how he let that one slip by us unnoticed.”  Scorpius shrugs.

 

“You’re telling us that you’re dating your _god brother_?” dad asks incredulously, “Are you insane?”

 

“I never said anything about dating. We’re just screwing,” says James, unfazed.  And maybe he looks a little disappointed about that, but Albus can’t quite be sure.

 

Once again, The Albus and Scorpius Show had been preempted.

 

 

 

~Daphne~

 

 

Daphne arrives at Albus Potter’s flat, tote full of binders in tow, excited to be picking up another client, even if that client is her nephew and his boyfriend, and even if her services will be free.

 

“So what sort of party are you gentlemen planning?” she asks, plunking down the binders on the dining room table. “End-of-summer cocktail party? Backyard barbecue?”

 

“We just want to gather both of our families together in one place where we can talk to them,” says Scorpius.

 

“Nothing fancy,” Albus adds.

 

“Ah a dinner party, then,” says Daphne as she clears the other binders from the table and sets down the appropriate book. “Catered, I assume?”

 

“Catered,” Scorpius nods.

 

“Ooh, a banquet hall, then.”  She flips the pages of the binder excitedly.

 

“Actually, maybe we could just rent the back room of a big restaurant,” says Albus.

 

“Oh…” Daphne smiles and tries not to look too disappointed.  “What’s the occasion?”

 

“We want to tell our families something important,” says Scorpius.

 

“Oh?” Daphne quirks a brow with renewed interest.

 

“You have to swear not to tell anybody,” says Scorpius.

 

Daphne smiles, and perhaps the corners of her lips quirk up just a little bit into a smirk.  “You can trust your Auntie Daphne.”

 

Scorpius informs her, “Mum already knows.”

 

“Then your secret might already be out,” says Daphne with a dismissive wave.

 

Scorpius takes Albus’ hand and they beam at each other like the perfect picture of innocent young love, like a pair of sweet cherubs, and Daphne can’t help but feel nauseated.  There really is such a thing as _too cute_.

 

“Albie and I got married last week,” Scorpius admits with a little giggle, which Albus echoes with a kiss.  Daphne really wants to throw up now.

 

“Scorpius, how could you be so selfish?!” she reprimands.

 

Scorpius pouts and it is terribly reminiscent of his mother’s.  “But we love each other so much!”

 

“I mean, how could you deprive your dear auntie of the honor of planning a wedding for you?  Did you even have a party?”

 

“Sort of,” answers Scorpius, “We got married in one of those chapels in Las Vegas.  We went out club hopping with the band after.”

 

“It was brilliant,” beams Albus, “Elvis performed the ceremony.”

 

Daphne gasps in horror, “You got married by a muggle in a leisure suit?  I could just die! Is that even legitimate?”

 

“We have the certificate.”  Albus hops up to retrieve said certificate.

 

Daphne inspects the very sketchy looking piece of paper carefully then declares, “No, no, no.  This isn’t a legal marriage certificate.  See, the fine print?   _This document certifies that a commitment ceremony has taken place and is not recognized as a legal union within the State of Nevada. Marriage certificates may only be filed with the Clark County Marriage Bureau if applicants are male and female. In jurisdictions outside of the State of Nevada where same-sex marriages are recognized, this certificate is void as a legal document._ ”

 

Both Scorpius and Albus exclaim incredulously in perfect sync with one another, “WHAT?!”

 

Daphne shrugs and grins wryly, “I’m sorry darlings, but you’re only married in the eyes of Elvis.”  She’s not sorry.  Serves the sneaky little devils right for leaving her out of the process.

 

“Damn,” sighs Scorpius, looking quite deflated.

 

“But worry not, boys.  Let your Auntie Daphne take care of _everything_. I’ll make sure you have a legitimate, proper wedding,” she says, smiling wide.  “It’ll be _fabulous!_ ” And _all_ the binders come out of the enchanted Louis Vuitton tote.

 

 

~James~

 

_“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:_

_A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;_

_A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;_

_A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;_

_A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;_

_A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;_

_A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;_

_A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.”_

 

James has been standing beneath a large, garish tent at the edge of the Black Lake at the foot of Hogwarts Castle, shifting uncomfortably in an itchy rented tuxedo for what feels like an eternity, listening to Uncle Percy trying to sound deeply profound as he reads off a scroll of parchment. 

 

He lolls his head to the side and whispers to Teddy, “What about a time to shut up and a time to get on with it? When’s it going to be time for that?”

 

Teddy bites his lip to keep from laughing, but a snort escapes despite his efforts, earning both him and James a warning glare from mum, who is sitting with dad and the grandparents in the front row of a grouping of gold folding chairs.

 

“And now, it is time to join these two fine gentlemen in the eternal bond of marriage,” says Uncle Percy, finally lifting his nose from the parchment.  “Who of his blood bears witness to this bond on behalf of the groom?”

 

“Which groom?” asks Albus, whispering through his teeth.

 

Uncle Percy pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and clears his throat quietly.  “Oh, sorry.  I mean, who of his blood bears witness to this bond on behalf of Albus?”

 

“His mother and I, his father,” says dad with a small sniffle.  Mum hands him another tissue.

 

“And who of his blood bears witness to this bond on behalf of Scorpius?” asks Percy.

 

“My husband and I, his father,” says Mr. Malfoy, rather sedately, while Theodore Nott beams proudly.

 

“And his mother!”  Scorpius’ mother’s shrill, pained voice comes through a mobile phone, which Scorpius’ aunt holds up from the front row.

 

James squints to see the live video on the device’s screen and then immediately wishes he hadn’t been able to put the image into focus.

 

“Oh Circe, that’s another contraction!” she shrieks.

 

“I’m putting you on mute now, Astoria,” says Scorpius’ aunt.

 

James can’t help but smirk at the thought of Scorpius’ mother almost up-staging Albus and Scorpius’ wedding by giving birth to twins. Serves the brats right, show-offs that they are.

 

“Who presents the rings for enchantment?” asks Uncle Percy.

 

“That would be me, Albus’ brilliant brother,” says James, producing a little clamshell box with the snap of his fingers and a little puff of smoke, just for theatrical effect.  He doesn’t miss Albus rolling his eyes.  He opens the box and holds it in his palm.  Inside are two shiny platinum bands wedged in a satin cushion. One ring bears a tiny inlaid emerald, the other, a blue topaz.

 

“Who will cast the conjugal spell upon the rings?”

 

Lily steps closer with her wand already drawn. “I, Albus’ sister.”

 

Teddy’s wand slides through the inside of his jacket sleeve and settles into his palm.  “I, Albus’ god brother, Scorpius’ second cousin.”

 

Teddy and Lily slowly wave their wands over the rings, repeating the words _Talem hos circulos ligare_ three times.  With each incantation, the metal glows more brightly and becomes red hot. James can feel the heat upon his palm through the box and it almost hurts – now he knows why Al chose him for this job.

 

Once the rings are imbued with power and have cooled off, James hands the box to Uncle Percy.

 

“Albus, present the ring to your intended spouse and recite your vow,” instructs Uncle Percy.

James whispers to Teddy, mocking his uncle’s voice, “A time to vomit, and a time to die.”

 

Teddy takes his wrist and hushes him. His touch, however innocuous, sends a shiver down James’ spine.  Teddy doesn’t let go.  And James doesn’t want him to.

 

Albus takes the ring embedded with an emerald and slips it onto Scorpius’ finger.  He looks like he’s about to cry, and it tugs on something inside of James – beneath all the sarcasm, he still loves his brother and he is so happy that Albus is getting everything he wants, for once.

 

“With this ring, I, Albus Severus Potter, bind myself to you, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, as the keeper of your heart and the protector of your soul, for all of eternity, in love and in partnership.”

 

Scorpius’ breath hitches audibly as he begins to cry, which seems to set off the waterworks amongst every leaky faucet in attendance, of which there are many.  Even Mr. Malfoy, who appeared unaffected the entire time, if a bit resigned, now looks glassy-eyed.  Scorpius is such a mess, quietly hyperventilating, that Albus has to calm him down before they go on.  He rests his forehead on Scorpius’ and whispers something to him.  James can’t hear what it is, but Scorpius smiles and nods, so it is unlikely some sort of threat.  Anyway, Albus is also crying, so he’s hardly one to reprimand Scorpius for doing so.

 

Scorpius collects himself enough to take the other ring and place it on Albus’ finger.  The words come out steadily at first, but soon disintegrate into wobbly, wet vows. “With this ring, I, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, bind myself to you, Albus Severus Potter, as the…- _sniff-_ keeper of your heart and the… - _wibble-_ protector of your soul, for all of eternity, in love… - _sniffle sniffle-_ and in partnership.”

 

Their eyes are going to look horrible in the photographs.

 

“Join your right hands together, please,” Uncle Percy says.

 

Albus and Scorpius hold each other with their fingers wrapped around the other’s wrist.  It is exactly the way people hold hands when an Unbreakable vow is made. Uncle Percy waves his wand over their joined hands in a figure-eight pattern and recites a litany of Latin incantations, repeating the spell three times.  A ribbon of white light appears and weaves its way around Albus’ and Scorpius’ hands.  Uncle Percy taps their hands with his wand and the magic that emanates from the two boys is palpable in the air.  James is involuntarily moved by it, as if it’s pushing on his chest.  But he’d rather die than cry in public.

 

“By the power vested in me by the Ministry of Magic, I declare that, from this day forward, Albus and Scorpius are joined in marriage for eternity.  Please seal your bond with a kiss.”

 

When they kiss, everybody cheers and claps and the kiss seems to go on forever.  It’s not obscene, but it’s nauseating nonetheless.

 

Teddy leans on James from behind, rests his chin on his shoulder, and whispers in his ear, “Do you think you’d want to do that sometime?”

 

“What?  Snog in front of my whole damn family?”  James turns around and Teddy’s arms encircle him in complete disregard for eyes that may disapprove.  He could die right now of overwhelming joy.

 

“I meant, get married, but I’ll take a kiss anyway,” says Teddy with a smirky grin, and James thinks he really has died and gone to heaven.

James doesn’t care if everyone is watching – he doesn’t even care if _nobody_ is watching, which says a lot more.  He kisses James hard on the mouth, and Teddy doesn’t recoil in shame.

 

He’s going to have to tell mum and dad that he and Teddy are doing a lot more than just screwing these days.  But not today.  It’s Al’s day. 

 

 

 

~Teddy~

 

“It’s a girl!” shouts Scorpius’ aunt, amplifying her voice with her wand, brandishing her mobile phone.

 

“Damn,” swears Teddy as he reaches into the inside pocket of his grey tuxedo jacket, pulls out a galleon, and slaps it on the gold banquet table in front of James, sending up a plume of confetti.

 

James laughs smugly and takes the galleon.

 

“Oh!  And another girl!” she exclaims.

 

“Shit,” Teddy hisses and gives up another galleon.

 

James is entirely too happy to be taking Teddy’s money. “I knew it.”  He kisses the gold coin and drops it into his pocket. “Am I good, or what?”

 

“You’re lucky you’re hot,” Teddy mutters wryly, teasing.

 

“No _you’re_ lucky I’m hot,” James corrects him with a peck on the lips.

 

He smiles and hooks a hand around the back of James’ neck to keep him close for another kiss, this one lingering.

 

“I’m not lucky, I’m fortunate. There’s a difference,” says Teddy, lazily raking his fingers through the back of James’ hair.

 

James asks, “And what’s the difference?”

 

“Lucky is finding a hot guy.  Fortunate is being able to keep that hot guy,” Teddy explains with a small smile.

 

“How about this one?” proposes James with a pointed look, “Unlucky is falling in love with your god brother.  Unfortunate is only seeing your god brother a few weeks out of the year.”

 

Teddy sighs sadly and rests his forehead on James’. “Unfortunate, indeed. But you know what’s also unfortunate?”

 

James echoes Teddy’s sigh.  “What?”

 

Teddy pulls back slightly and flashes a knowing smirk. “The typical professional Quidditch player retires by the age of twenty-five, or sooner due to grievous injuries.”

 

James lips quirk into the sort of astute grin that makes Teddy want to kiss him for days.  “And lucky for you, I’m twenty one.  And very prone to grievous injuries.”

 

“Fortunately, I’m a patient man,” says Teddy with a soft smile.

 

“Unfortunately, I’m not,” says James, not looking upset at all.  “I’ve got another one for you – Lucky is marrying a famous man.  Fortunate is marrying a rich and famous quidditch star.”

 

“Then color me fortunate,” purrs Teddy before kissing James in a way that’s borderline-appropriate for a family function. Harry is probably going to kill him. But Teddy doesn’t mind, as long as he can die in James’ arms.

 

 

“Who’s ready to dance?” Albus shouts into the microphone on the small stage set up on one end of the tent.  Suddenly the inside of the tent is filled with lights and sounds as Albus’ band rips into an upbeat song.  Scorpius and Albus start singing, sharing a microphone between them, harmonizing perfectly as if they’d been rehearsing their whole lives for this moment.

 

“ _Will you come with me?  Into the city tonight…_ ”

 

Suddenly, Teddy feels a hand on his shoulder. He flinches and turns around to find Harry there, smiling.  “You boys going to snog all night or are you going to dance?  Come on, it’s a party!”

 

James looks a bit stunned and shrugs his shoulders at Teddy.  “We’re going to dance, I guess.”

 

Everyone is on the crowded wooden dance floor, celebrating raucously.  Gran is doing The Twist with Arthur and Molly.  George is doing the Pogo, trying to start a mosh pit.  Hugo, Rose, Lily, and Roxanne have formed a dance circle that quickly grows as it swallows up all of the young guests who each take a turn showing off their moves at the center.  Albus’ and Scorpius’ Slytherin friends turn it into an outright dance battle.  Victoire and her husband are dancing elegantly off to the side, but are soon pulled into the fray by Dominique.  Even Draco Malfoy and his husband are doing something that looks a bit like dancing, nodding their heads to the beat. 

 

And Teddy isn’t just dancing with James, he’s dancing with their whole family, who loves them and accepts them – Teddy couldn’t be happier. Because he knows that they’ll be back here in a few years and he’ll not just be dancing with the love of his life, he’ll be dancing with his husband.

 

Fortunate indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written a week or two shy of Nevada recognizing gay marriage. Go Nevada!
> 
> Percy's speech at the beginning of the wedding quotes The Bible, but I forget which passage.


End file.
